"Well, that's one on me!
I must say you're a nervy young party. So you thought I was a
burglar, did you?"

"Oh, no!" Caroline cried, "of course not--I meant I was playing it
was burglars; I didn't mean you. I--I didn't know anybody was here."

"Humph!" said he. "What made you play burglars? Anything in that
line yourself, ever?"

Caroline stared uncomprehendingly.

"My mother doesn't think it's right for Aunt Edith to go off and
leave the house all alone the way she does," she explained; "she's
always telling her some one will break in if she doesn't leave Selma
or a dog. And she never locks a thing, you know--she says if they
intend to get in, they will, and that's all there is about it. So
this time she went for three days, and Miss Honey and the General
and Delia; and Selma and Anna went to a wedding and Ed went
somewhere about a lawn-mower, and little Ed was going to get the
pony shod. I told Aunt Edith I'd--" she coughed importantly--"keep
an eye on the house."

"I see," said the man.

He poured himself two inches of the topaz liquor; it rocked in the
glass.

Caroline sniffed inquiringly.

"That's the Scotch," she said; "I know by the smell, partly like
cologne and partly smoky. Do you like it?"

The man raised the glass to the level of his eyes and watched the
light play through it, then made a slight movement of his arm and
the whisky disappeared smoothly.

"Your Aunt Edith's taste is as good as her voice," he said, eyeing
Caroline carefully.

"Oh, that's not Aunt Edith's--that's Uncle Joe's," she explained.
Then, as it flashed across her suddenly.

"Did you want to see him? He's in New York, too. They're going to
have pictures taken of Miss Honey and General. But after that, Uncle
Joe's going to Chicago. Did you want him?"

"N-no, not exactly," said the man, studying his well-kept
finger-nails. "I can't say I do. No, my business is with--is more--"

He stopped suddenly and followed the direction of Caroline's eyes.

There on the sideboard behind him stood a leather suit-case, long
and solid looking. It was open and tight rows of forks and spoons
filled it.

The room was quite still for a moment. Caroline wanted to show by
some intelligent remark that she understood the situation, and
could easily imagine what the man was doing with the silver, but
she found this difficult.

Strange people came to Aunt Edith's house. Dark, foreign-looking men
ate meals there at unusual hours; once Caroli